Friday, October 23, 2015, my wife will move out.
This day has been coming ever since May of this year, when we (okay – me; when I told her we should get divorced,) realized that our marriage wouldn’t survive my transition. (She had told me a few years earlier that she would divorce me if I transitioned.)
Given the vitriol on her part directed at me over the whole thing, I wrongly assumed that she would want to move quickly on the divorce paperwork and moving on.
I was wrong on both accounts.
This summer has been an agonizing, naked crawl through broken glass as we went back and forth on who was going to stay in the house and the paperwork around our divorce. While we have the asset division agreed to and I’m expecting we’ll sign the contract on that this week, we’re (okay – she is,) bogged down on the rest of the documents, mostly the parenting plan.
The moving part has been even harder. At first, she was going to get her own place, and she found a couple of places that would have worked, but she dithered, and they were snapped up. Then her sister decided to leave her husband, and they looked for and placed an offer together that fell through when my soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law couldn’t close on a refinance to cash my sister-in-law out.
My wife then looked for another place to buy, but the Seattle market is fucking nuts unless you have wads of cash and are ready to jump at anything, and absent big wads of cash, gave up looking for a place to buy and shifted to looking for rentals. To her credit, she fairly rapidly found a place to rent once the deal with her sister fell through. She even signed the paperwork a couple of weeks ago.
So she’s had her place for two weeks now and hasn’t moved much. I’d been asking when she’s moving, and she wasn’t able to tell me. Some of that has been us getting to more clarity on the kid schedule, but most of it has been her dragging her feet.
She works less than a mile from her new place, and instead of loading her car up every time she goes to work, it’s been a box here and there when she’s felt like it. I’ve packed more of her stuff so far than she has.
It also didn’t help that I was sick and then she was sick, probably from stress.
I am not happy about the whole thing, but there is a sense of relief coming, and maybe a bit of a breakdown in my future, now that there is a date certain that she’ll be out. The movers will come to take her furniture and whatever she’s managed to box up. It will just be me and my two kids this weekend as she settles in to her new place.
The next phase of my life is about to begin.